


Hate It, Merls, Hate It

by Guardian_Rose



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Court Sorcerer Merlin, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, Humour, M/M, No Angst, drunk!arthur, king arthur - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 00:55:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8307628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guardian_Rose/pseuds/Guardian_Rose
Summary: Canon Era. Arthur is King. Merlin is Court Sorcerer. They don't hide but they don't explicitly announce it to the people.
Merlin had stopped drinking after the third round, he was admittedly a complete lightweight, and had stuck around for the company but mostly because Arthur had pulled the dark haired man onto his lap and had his stupidly strong arms wrapped around his waist to keep him there. It was the most unkingly action Merlin could remember Arthur ever making and if he was being honest, he loved it.





	

Merlin was having the time of his life, he couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed this much and it was of course because of his own personal royal prat. Arthur had shed the title of king, as best he could, for the night and had accepted his knights’ invitation to grab a few drinks at the tavern. Merlin had been dragged along as well of course, persuaded equally by Arthur’s pleading eyes and Lancelot’s promise to make sure Gwaine didn’t let Arthur get so drunk that Merlin would have to carry him back to the keep.

 

So here they were after a day of council meetings (for Arthur and Lancelot at least), training for the rest of the knights and a day of trying to lighten Arthur’s perpetually foul mood on Merlin’s side. Although, it was partly the warlock’s fault that the king had been so badly tempered but it was hardly fair that Arthur expected him to  _ not  _ avoid the mind-numbingly dull meetings that the king was forced to attend. Surely Merlin shouldn’t be made to suffer alongside him? 

 

Well...maybe it was part of his job as court sorcerer now but still, he couldn’t be blamed for trying to skip them. It’s not like he ever succeeded. Arthur had an array of tricks to get him to the blasted things. They always worked. Nine times out of ten they involved bribery too.

 

Gwaine and Percival were sitting next to each, arms wrapped around each other's shoulders as they joked and teased their friends in far too high a volume; Lancelot was giggling at the pair and occasionally interjecting his own wit into the conversation. The others had left some time ago, after the...fifth(?) round of drinks. Merlin had stopped drinking after the third round, he was admittedly a complete lightweight, and had stuck around for the company but mostly because Arthur had pulled the dark haired man onto his lap and had his stupidly strong arms wrapped around his waist to keep him there. It was the most  _ unkingly _ action Merlin could remember Arthur ever making and if he was being honest, he loved it. 

 

Loved that Arthur was finally relaxing, loved that they could finally do this now. The shows of affection, from the small brushes of fingertips on the back of his neck when Arthur walked by to fighting at each other’s side. Magic and steel working together to defend Camelot.

 

“Merlin?” Arthur whispered, it wasn’t really a whisper but with the other knight’s roaring laughter filling the room no one else heard and Merlin was fairly sure he heard only because the king had rested his chin on the warlock’s shoulder to talk into his ear.

 

“Yes?” Merlin answered, leaning back against Arthur’s broad chest.

 

“You’re cute. For an idiot, that is.” 

 

Merlin laughed loudly, drawing the other knight’s attention and Arthur’s proud smile. 

 

“What? What’s so funny?” Gwaine practically shouted to them, even though they were sitting at the same table.

 

“Nothing!” Arthur sang. Quite tunefully as well. Gwaine furrowed his brow but soon got distracted by Percival trying to get him to pick a fight with Lancelot.

 

“I think it’s time we got you back to the keep, sire.” Merlin suggested without any attempt at leaving Arthur’s grasp.

 

“No,” Arthur scrunched his face up, Merlin found it quite cute, like a puppy, “don’t call me that. Not you. You know, I’ve always hated you calling me sire or my lord. Hated it, Merls. Hate it.”

 

Merlin laughed again, “I know, I’m serious though. You’re going to have a horrible hangover tomorrow.” 

 

Arthur sighed but released the warlock. Merlin stood up with very little grace which the king of course found adorable and the blond proceeded to comment on it as they left the tavern and made their way to the keep. Merlin kept an arm around the king’s waist to stop him from straying too far in his drunken haze, he was pretty sure that if he let go then Arthur would walk into a wall he was that absorbed in his teasing.

 

They nearly made it the entire way back to the King’s, and unofficially Merlin’s, chambers without encountering anyone who recognised either of the pair in the dark. However, it was just their luck that one of the visiting duchess’ (maybe, Merlin cared even less for the nobles than he did the council meetings) had arrived late that night and was still wandering the corridors of the castle when the pair returned. Merlin made a last ditch attempt to spell them invisible but Arthur tripped at that very moment, effectively distracting the warlock as he moved to compensate for more of the king’s weight.

 

“Arthur! The least you could do is stay upright, you prat!” Merlin complained rather loudly.

 

The blond just looked up at him with a bright grin and pushed Merlin’s shoulder lightly, it still made him stumble away for a few steps. Arthur growled at the loss of contact which the approaching Lady, that would do, nice and simple Merlin thought, mistook as defensive.

 

“My King! Are you quite alright? Is this man bothering you?” The Lady cried, hurrying over and getting all up in Arthur’s face checking him for injuries or some such polite facade. She sent a venomous glare over her shoulder at Merlin who just stood there feeling rather put off by her behaviour.

 

“Merlin? He bothers everyone, it’s quite normal.” Arthur giggled and smiled at the warlock who was still just watching with a growing grin.

 

“Are you sure? I could call the guards if you like? Then he wouldn’t be bothering anyone.” She backed away a step and brushed her skirts down, smiling pretentiously at Arthur; Merlin just waited for Arthur to embarrass himself. It would be a story for the next day if he did, the knights would taunt him for at least a month if it was good enough.

 

“Guards? Why would you need to call my guards? Merlin, what have you done now?” Arthur furrowed his eyebrows and looked at him quizzically. Merlin stifled a laugh at his confusion.

 

“Me? Nothing, sire. Absolutely nothing.” Merlin answered, intentionally trying to get a rise out of the king.

 

He was rewarded when Arthur growled again and his eyes narrowed predatively.

 

“What cheek! How can you let him speak to you like that, my king?” The Lady looked absolutely scandalised and didn’t seem to understand the silent staring contest happening between the two men.

 

“Yes, Mer _ lin, _ why do I let you get away with speaking to your king in such a way?” Arthur’s voice was deep and Merlin suddenly doubted how drunk the king really was.

 

“Uhm…” Merlin swallowed heavily.

 

“My Lady, it would probably be in your best interest to retire to your room now, wouldn’t want to stop you from having your beauty sleep.” Arthur turned to her with what Merlin called his King smile. Polite and aloof yet kind. Fake. 

 

“Oh! Of course, goodnight sire.” She quickly took her leave with one more glance back before she turned the corner.

 

Alone again and Merlin met Arthur’s gaze. His eyes were dancing in the torchlight mischievously. He wasn’t drunk. Drunk Arthur was sappy and giggly, not sarcastic and playful.

 

“You prat! You absolute dollophead! I thought you were serious!” Merlin cried.

 

“Hate it, Merls. Hate it.” Arthur teased, lips upturned in a smile. A real one, the one reserved for Merlin and Merlin alone. He still didn’t regret calling him sire, even if he really did hate it. Which the dark haired man expected was the truth.

 

“I hate you.” The warlock sulked and started walking down the corridor again.

 

“No you don’t.” Arthur called after him, a few steps behind. Refusing to run to catch up or leaving Merlin his space, the warlock didn’t know.

 

“Prat.”

 

“Idiot.” 

 

“How drunk are you Arthur?”

 

“In all honesty? Lancelot switched me to water when you stopped drinking, you just didn’t notice. So not very at all.” 

 

“That ass.”

 

“Oh come on, it could have been worse. I could actually  _ be _ drunk.” Arthur finally jogged to cover the gap between them and Merlin sighed as he stopped and turned to face Arthur.

 

“I’m never going drinking with you again. That Lady hates me now! She thinks I’m some sort of-of…”

 

“Idiot?” Arthur finished the sentence for him and Merlin threw his hands up in exasperation.

 

“Yes!” 

 

The blond took the warlock’s hands in his own and pressed their foreheads together lightly.

 

“You’re my idiot though.” He whispered, Merlin refused to acknowledge the fact that he could feel himself blushing.

  
“Are you sure you’re not drunk?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> Any and all comments welcome! Especially prompts!


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